Danarchy we called him – he told us to call him. He was missing the the top half of his left index finger. It made it so when he flashed the rock/devil/horns with that hand his pinky and index finger were exactly the same height. He considered this a perk. His finger had been chopped off just below the nail by some event known only to him. You could ask him what happened, and he’d be happy to tell you – problem is every time he’d tell the story it was completely different. A rat bit it off in his sleep one night, a shop instructor made an example out of him, a friend started a car while he was reaching into the engine to dislodge something, your girlfriend’s pussy was too tight and snapped it right off. Without ever meeting the guy you could just make something up and you’d have as good an idea as any of us who knew him for years. The finger was the most obvious, but now that I think about it pretty much the same thing applied to everything else about him too.